


something good, something strange

by nighimpossible



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Choking, Hand Jobs, M/M, Sensory Deprivation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-02
Updated: 2018-02-02
Packaged: 2019-03-12 07:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13542603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nighimpossible/pseuds/nighimpossible
Summary: Caleb shifts his vision into Frumpkin and flies the familiar a little closer, his small bird feet wrapping around a sapling nearby. Fjord looks into the trees and gives the sparrow a quick nod before pressing a small kiss to the back of Caleb’s neck. It is an achingly soft gesture, one that Caleb does not know how to parse.And then Caleb is lost to sensation.





	something good, something strange

**Author's Note:**

  * For [engine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/engine/gifts), [magisterequitum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterequitum/gifts).



> Definitely what it says on the tin. This fic involves a scene of a sexual nature during which Caleb is looking through Frumpkin's eyes. If that squicks you out, this is your fair warning. This story takes place mid episode 3, in an alternative universe where the group saw the devil toad and chose to run.
> 
> Thanks to Kate for the WONDERFUL beta!! I'm so glad we're enabling each other here :)
> 
> Title from Two Door Cinema Club's song, ["Sucker."](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pV95Ey8uNbs)

 

 

The forest is too dark for Caleb’s eyes, so when it’s clear that this devil toad _thing_ is more than the group can handle, Caleb grabs for the closest person with darkvision. Usually that person is Nott, but when Caleb reaches out a hand for his shorter companion, he meets thin air.

 

“ _Come on, Nott! We are getting caught if you keep looking behind you!_ ” Jester’s voice is bright in the darkness. Caleb’s mouth twists: on one hand, the safest place for Nott to be is likely in the company of the party’s cleric, but Nott’s absence leaves Caleb at a bit of a disadvantage. 

 

“Shit,” Caleb breathes. He’s going to have to navigate the forest in the dark. Alone.

 

Caleb draws one of the four dancing lights towards him with a shaking hand. It’s better than going through the woods blind, but it’s certain to bring him unwanted attention.

 

“Dismiss it,” a low voice drawls right behind him. Caleb yelps immediately, nearly jumping out of his skin at the surprise. The light flickers as a broad hand darts out to cover his mouth. Caleb tries to object and is rebuffed by a long finger that nearly slips between his teeth. It takes a lot of self-restraint not to angrily bite down. “Easy,” Fjord adds, his voice low in Caleb’s ear. The heat of his breath on the back of Caleb’s neck tingles a bit. “It’s just me. And those lights will only bring them towards us.”

 

Caleb huffs out a shaky breath and Fjord slides his hand away, releasing Caleb from his grasp. Caleb throws the cantrip back about a hundred yards, and in the distance, the woods begin to glow.

 

“Easy for you to say, _easy_ ,” Caleb snarls.

 

“Can you move?” Fjord asks, jerking his head upwards towards where Caleb’s other _dancing light_ orbs illuminate the toad, which remains captivated with Jester’s double.

 

“If you take the lead,” Caleb says, gesturing to his eyes. “The forest is too damn dark.”

 

“Not a problem.” Fjord nods a little to himself, sheathing his falchion and extending Caleb a large hand. “I’ll get us out.”

 

Caleb hesitates.

 

Fjord is hard to read, even in the distant light of Caleb’s cantrip—though maybe Fjord is always hard to read. Caleb has yet to have any real insight on the man. But when Fjord nods at Caleb and simply repeats, “I’ll get us out,” Caleb believes him. Getting out of here in one piece is likely a fool’s errand, but Caleb has to trust that Fjord is as honest as his word—otherwise fear will just freeze him solid on the spot.

 

“Let’s get out of here _alive_ ,” Caleb suggests, taking Fjord’s hand.

 

Fjord runs.

 

The trees seem to fly past Caleb like dark streaks in the night. Fjord weaves back and forth through the brush, dragging Caleb along by the hand. Caleb just has to hope that Fjord is leading them _away_ from the devil toad and the flying imps that had somehow appeared alongside its monstrous form. He has to believe it, or his legs will stop moving beneath him.

 

Caleb looks over his shoulder for a moment and sees movement. “Something’s following,” he grunts, and Fjord veers left suddenly. Caleb loses his footing immediately, and Fjord snags him around the waist, pulling the two of them flush to the back of a large boulder.

 

Caleb doesn’t breathe, just presses his back against Fjord’s chest as the buzzing hiss of the imp seems to get closer. The heat coming off of Fjord’s chest soaks through Caleb’s duster. Neither of them move an inch. The loud thrum of Caleb’s pulse beats deafeningly in his ears and he can’t get it to slow. A shadow hovers over them for a long moment before finally melting into the darkness of the forest.

 

If he’s going to get out of here alive, Caleb needs perspective.

 

Looking over his shoulder, Caleb raises a single finger to his mouth. It’s possible the imp is still nearby—they cannot risk speaking out loud yet. But Caleb doesn’t have to work for Fjord’s attention. Instead, Fjord is staring down at him with an intense gaze. Caleb gulps quietly.

 

Interesting.

 

Caleb points towards a distant, flitting Frumpkin and motions towards his eyes. “Frumpkin,” he mouths at Fjord. Fjord nods, knowing what that means: Caleb is going to be blind and deaf to the outside world while he is scouting through his familiar. He’s seen Caleb do this before at the inn.

 

“I’ll pull you out if we need to run,” Fjord whispers. “Do it.”

 

Caleb reaches out to Frumpkin through their telepathic connection. _Hey, buddy_.

 

The fey sparrow is sitting in a tree when Caleb opens its eyes. Terror runs through the small bird’s body, and Caleb attempts to soothe Frumpkin as much as he can. It’s a hard thing to do: Frumpkin tends to express Caleb’s intense emotions—fear, delight, anger—more plainly than Caleb tends to allow in person. Fear has ruled Caleb for years and tonight's no exception. Frumpkin is showing Caleb’s cowardly heart in spades.

 

The familiar’s feathers ruffle as Caleb peers out from his bird’s eye view.

 

There are two imps circling the forest that Frumpkin can spot. Caleb watches one float past the boulder behind which he and Fjord are hiding. Another flies in the distance after what Caleb can only assume is a very aggressive monk. 

 

“That’s right, you want to fight me, not the half-conscious tiefling,” he hears Beau shout in the distance.

 

“One nearby,” Caleb whispers to Fjord, still looking through Frumpkin’s eyes. “One ahead, near Beau and Molly.” He pauses. “Maybe Jester.” He feels Fjord stiffen in concern behind him.

 

“If you die for me, I certainly didn’t ask for that,” an annoyed voice shouts over the distant brawl. Beau lets out a battle cry and the imp disappears with a scream and a well-placed flurry of blows.

 

“Definitely Molly,” Caleb corrects, and Fjord relaxes slightly. “One imp down.”

 

Caleb guides Frumpkin from tree branch to tree branch. Even as a bird, the darkness is still hard to see through. Finally, Frumpkin moves into the moonlight and Caleb has a decent line of sight for the first time since the sun went down. 

 

The devil toad is still illuminated by Caleb’s cantrip, snapping at Jester’s double in rage and confusion. The image dances around the toad, yelling out encouragement: “You almost got me that time!”

 

Closer, though, the imps seek their prey.

 

“Shit,” Caleb breathes, sinking down. Caleb feels Fjord silently guide them both to the ground as the nearest imp veers past, just a hair’s breadth away from revealing their hiding spot. Caleb feels held: when he looks with Frumpkin’s eyes, he can see that Fjord’s body is curled around Caleb’s like protective armor. One of Fjord’s arms is wrapped around Caleb’s waist, the other has his falchion unsheathed in front of Caleb’s body—ready to take on the world. Tucked against each other, staying as still as statues, the two of them manage to remain hidden from the nasty little creature.

 

Adrenaline pounds through Caleb’s system. Every twitch of Fjord against him sends his heart into a new relay of pitter-pattering around his rib cage. Caleb isn’t comfortable with coming this close to death and it bloody well shows. The branches of a distant tree rustle, and Caleb strains his familiar’s sight to spot where the imp went. _There_ —a shadow, and then nothing more.

 

“He’s moving away,” Caleb whispers.

 

It’s been almost five minutes of uninterrupted stillness when Fjord attempts to readjust behind Caleb at his affirmation of safety. Caleb senses the movement but pays it little mind, as he’s trying to focus Frumpkin’s gaze—but then Fjord’s hand slips. It’s just for a moment, and Fjord’s fingers only linger against Caleb’s crotch briefly, but the sensation short-circuits Caleb’s brain in a flash.

 

A shock of pleasure shudders through Caleb’s body and he _keens_ at the feeling. Horrifyingly, his moan is loud enough that Caleb can hear himself from Frumpkin’s perch nearly one hundred feet away. Fjord has his free hand over Caleb’s mouth almost instantaneously, smothering the sound in one quick movement. Humiliation courses in Caleb’s veins as he silently curses every damned choice that has brought him to this moment. Watching carefully through Frumpkin’s eyes, Caleb sees the imp twitch in their direction before heading off in the area where Caleb last saw Jester. He sends out a silent prayer that the girls got out of there safely long ago.

 

Caleb drops the familiar’s gaze.

 

The quiet around the two of them feels thick enough to pierce.

 

Caleb just needs to apologize and they can both leave this forest with a single shred of Caleb’s dignity intact.

 

“Listen—” It’s been a long time since Caleb has used his magic so regularly: the arcane buzz that he tends to live in after a well-crafted bit of magic goes smoothly certainly has him on edge, to start. And Hells, Caleb has certainly never been touched during this kind of bizarre, out of body experience—how exactly was he supposed to know how he’d react?

 

These are the words Caleb wants to say, but he finds himself too scared to speak.

 

Fjord sheathes his falchion while Caleb burns with embarrassment. Perhaps Caleb will finally move to Tal’Dorei like he’d always planned. He’ll be running away from his problems yet again. It’s becoming a bit of a pattern.

 

“Is the imp gone?” Fjord asks impassively. Caleb feels his whole face go red in sheer, unadulterated misery—if he could just let Caleb apologize for being weak in a moment of panic—!  But no: Fjord’s tone of voice is fucking _unreadable_. Caleb wants to twist around to face him but ultimately cannot brave a disgusted look on Fjord’s face. So he remains facing forward.

 

“Yes, I saw him leave,” Caleb says stiffly. He leans forward and makes a move to get up, but Fjord pulls him back down into his lap. Caleb feels the breath thrust from his lungs as he slams back into Fjord’s chest.

 

“Maybe you can check again,” Fjord suggests innocently. He reaches his hand around Caleb’s waist and slides a single exploratory finger beneath the leather of Caleb’s belt.

 

Caleb’s breath catches in his throat. “I, um. I’ll check.”

 

Caleb shifts his vision into Frumpkin and flies the familiar a little closer, his small bird feet wrapping around a sapling nearby. Fjord looks into the trees and gives the sparrow a quick nod before pressing a small kiss to the back of Caleb’s neck. It is an achingly soft gesture, one that Caleb does not know how to parse.

 

And then Caleb is lost to sensation.

 

The immediate feeling of Fjord’s hands under his small clothes are overwhelming in every sense of the word. The normal sounds Caleb associates with sex are deadened by his distance, but the _feelings_ —the feelings seem heightened, like now that Caleb can no longer hear or see from his own eyes, each touch from Fjord becomes amplified. A single finger runs down the curve of Caleb’s throat and Caleb arches back into Fjord’s warmth. From the tree, Caleb watches himself pant, barely catching his breath. Caleb has been on edge since stepping foot in this damn forest, but now his nervous energy spills into plain desire. It’s dangerous and stupid to be so exposed when there are literal enemies floating through the forest. But then Fjord licks down the palm of his hand before gripping Caleb tightly, and doubt vanishes from Caleb’s mind.

 

“ _Fuck_.” The groan Caleb emits is desperate and needy, pleasure pooling sweetly in his veins. There is no restraint here—none that Caleb can afford.

 

In the distant quiet of the forest, Caleb can hear Fjord murmur, “There you go, that’s it. Easy there.” As he begins to jerk Caleb off, Fjord whispers quiet platitudes like he’s talking down a wild horse. Caleb thinks distantly that he’s not far off.

 

It is perhaps the strangest sensation, feeling so far removed but simultaneously so irrevocably involved. Caleb hasn’t been this turned on since he was a _teenager_ and barely knew how to handle himself around other interested parties _._ This entanglement is perhaps not his best showing—he’s not one to generally _melt_ in his lover’s arms. Caleb knows how to show other people a good time, but here, Fjord has him by the invisible strings of a marionette. Fjord is driving this wagon. The reigns are in his fairly capable hands.

 

“Please,” Caleb heaves out, resting the back of his head on Fjord’s shoulder. From the sparrow’s perch nearby, Caleb can see the white paleness of his neck in the moonlight.  “It’s—it’s good.” In a moment of reckless inhibition, he grabs for Fjord’s unoccupied hand and drags it up to splay over Caleb’s throat.

 

Fjord hesitates. Caleb can feel the warmth from the pads of Fjord’s fingertips resting easily against his skin. “You’re sure?”

 

Adrenaline courses through Caleb and he simply presses Fjord’s hand against his windpipe gently. “I’ll say if it’s too much.”

 

This is the opposite of anything Caleb has ever learned over the span of his life. He knows to avoid danger. He also knows that he’s not as sturdy as most. If he takes a big hit, he might be down for good. Peril is something Caleb has avoided his entire life. It’s what he’s had to do to survive.

 

Maybe that’s why Caleb finds this situation so blazingly hot—this simulated danger abutting real danger. It’s nothing Caleb has ever sought out before, and it’s enough to make Caleb’s cowardly head spin.

 

Fjord finally wraps his long fingers around Caleb’s neck and Caleb whines out loud.

 

“It’s good, it’s good,” Caleb encourages. Fjord applies an experimental squeeze and Caleb bucks his hips sharply.

 

Fjord pumps up and down faster now, emboldened by Caleb’s reaction. Fjord’s hands all over him feel so blissfully good, and _fuck_ it’s been a long time. A wetness drips down Caleb’s cheek, and he realizes that he’s got tears in his eyes.

 

“Don’t stop,” he grits out, cutting Fjord’s doubt off quickly. His voice sounds wafer thin to the ears of his familiar. “Gods, please don’t stop.” It’s a broken plea, one that Caleb hopes Fjord answers.

 

In reply, Fjord presses down roughly against Caleb’s windpipe. “No one’s stopping anything.” His words are a growl of a promise, and just like that—Caleb is gone.

 

Caleb’s vision snaps from Frumpkin’s eyes back into his body as he comes. Lightning strikes of pleasure shock through his body. He feels a little woozy at the lack of air, but it’s sickeningly hot all the same. Caleb tries to grasp at something—anything to hang onto—and his fingers find purchase on Fjord’s thighs. His nails nearly biting through the thick fabric at Fjord’s knees, Caleb chokes out a desperate, “Enough.”

 

Fjord’s hands are off him in an instant. Caleb falls onto all fours, gasping to catch his breath. He wipes his eyes before digging his fingers into the earth, the connection to solid ground steadying. Caleb coughs harshly, and he feels as Fjord puts a steadying hand between his shoulder blades. “You—you good?” Fjord asks Caleb. Caleb’s head twists to eye Fjord curiously. For the first time, Fjord sounds _raw_.

 

For his part, Caleb’s voice is a hoarse rasp when he replies, “More than good.” Frumpkin flies down and lands on Fjord’s shoulder. Fjord is looking at him with a hunger that lights something inside Caleb. Licking his lips, Caleb considers returning the favor right here, right now. He makes a move towards Fjord, crawling towards him on hands and knees. Fjord simply lets his knees fall wide, opening a path for Caleb. 

 

A sudden crunching sound in the distance reminds Caleb that this forest is full of danger. Frumpkin’s wings fluff up in fear and Fjord reaches up to pet the little bird. Caleb cannot possibly process that right now. “We need to get out of here if you want me to survive for round two of whatever this is,” Caleb suggests.

 

“No one’s getting dead tonight,” Fjord nods, helping Caleb to his feet. Caleb wobbles a little on unsteady legs before reaching down to fasten his belt once more.

 

“Strangely, I believe you,” Caleb admits.

 

“Come on,” Fjord hums, taking Caleb by the hand. Dawn is beginning to lowlight the horizon with beautiful deep purples and pinks. Caleb is pretty sure that he’d be able to navigate on his own without Fjord’s assistance. In spite of all that, he does not let go. “Let’s get out of here.”


End file.
